Bhaktapur: art by satisshroff A DREAM LED TO ANOTHER (Satis Shroff) I was around twenty years old, My head full of dreams. I left the Himalayan foothills to win a dream: A dream to go to Europe, visit places I’d read about. The Bastille from Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, Where I spent time recalling the French Revolution. My friend’s Parisienne sister shook her head and said: ‘Monsieur Satish, there are others ways of spending an afternoon in Paris.’ The smell of sea food at a French harbour, Such as the peasants of Normandy built. La Rochelle and the German bunkers in the Ile d’ Oleron. I peered at sea fogs from the mighty Atlantic, Watched the ‘last oozing, hours by hours, From a cider-press’ in the Vosges, as John Keats aptly put it. * * * In Blenhelm’s little tavern I saw murals of its famous son: Winston Leonhard Spencer Churchill. I stood in front of Churchill’s grave; Above his remains lay his mother. The words of James Shirley came to my mind: ‘Death lays his...
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